


Say The Word

by Komatsu



Series: A World of Love [1]
Category: Bravely Default (Video Game) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Bondage, Consensual Non-Consent, Double Penetration, F/F, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Foursome, Genital Torture, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Partners, Nipple Torture, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Spanking, Oral Sex, Paddling, Rape, Rape Fantasy, Rope Bondage, Torture, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8106622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Komatsu/pseuds/Komatsu
Summary: After evading them for months, Agnès finds herself finally captured by the Eternian army.  She has two choices; join them and be safe, or refuse and face torturous treatment at their hands. Prideful and angry, she endures through the night, until her pride is broken for good.





	

**Author's Note:**

> As evidenced by the tags, this fic contains scenes of rape and other sexual assault. There is also sexual torture and plenty of heavy bondage. Be sure to read to the end! And remember, safe sex is the best sex.
> 
> I have no excuses for this, honestly.
> 
> Note that all characters are assumed to be 18 and over.

They had found her, caught her, taken her at last.

Agnès found herself being led down what seemed like a labyrinth, full of twisting turns, confusing corridors. She tried to keep track of her steps, of the directions she was being taken, but without her sight to aid her, it was impossible. The two soldiers who flanked her on either side were silent, the only sound from them their breathing and sharp reprimands whenever she stumbled.

The heavy rope chafed against her sensitive skin.

When she had been captured, they had immediately blindfolded her. When she'd struggled, they had tied her arms tightly behind her. When she'd tried to fight, they had further drawn the rope across her breasts and torso as well, to further bind and humiliate her. Her vestal garb was already thin, and torn as it was now, it was no barrier as her bonds tightened with each new movement. She could feel every inch of the rough weave.

Finally, they came to a stop.

"Please..." Agnès whimpered through the cloth gag dampened with tears and spit. It muffled her shouts but could not fully muffle her words. She shook. "Please let me go."

"She ready?" one man asked the other after a period of silence. Listening to them, she thought one was older than the other, his voice rough and unrestrained, but she couldn't be sure.

"Yeah."

The door opened, and Agnès was pushed inside. When she fell forward, caught by surprise, one of the men caught her by her arms and lowered her down to her knees. Though the act may have been intended to be kind, Agnès found herself biting down the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out in pain as he pulled at the ropes.

"So _this_ is the so-called Vestal-witch, Agnès Oblige." The woman speaking sounded cold, unfriendly. She was the commanding officer of her captors, it seemed.  "At last we've found you. Tell me, girl - do you realize exactly how much trouble you've caused? The disasters you've nearly brought upon the world? The people you've hurt?"

Agnès shook her head fervently, tears running anew down her cheeks. "I am - I did not - "

"Stop crying," the woman snapped. "You're lucky we were able to stop you in time, before you destroyed the world. I suppose because of that, we'll have to be lenient. We won't sentence you to death, at least not know. You may still have some use."

The vestal took in a deep, gasping sob. "Please release me! I have done nothing!"

"Oh? Do you want to join us, then?"

Despite the cloth in her mouth, Agnès cried out a reply. "Never! I will never join the Duchy!"

There was a long silence before the woman replied, her voice much closer now. "Feisty, aren't you? Very well, you've made your choice. You'll change your mind soon enough. Don't worry, we'll take _such_  good care of you. Boys, take her to the barracks. I need you to keep an eye on her until we get to Eternia. A _close_  eye on her."

"No!" Agnès cried, swiftly silenced by a slap to the face. Tears soaked through the fabric of her blindfold. "I don't…"

"Aha, we'll break her in for you, alright?," the older man said, cutting her off as he yanked her bonds, and the Vestal could only weep as she was pulled to her feet. She struggled briefly, kicking blindly behind her, and felt a bit of satisfaction as her foot hit something solid, but that foot was quickly captured and held, twisted.

"Ow! No need to get violent," the same man said. "Don't worry, Wind Vestal. We'll have fun tonight, you'll see."  He let her go.

" _Former_  Wind Vestal," the unseen woman replied, laughing. "Go on, take her. She's all yours until we land."

"No! Please!" Agnès cried out as she felt herself pulled away. Both soldiers had now taken hold of either side, and she was lifted off her feet entirely as they carried her out of the room and into the hallways.

How long she was carried, she could not tell. After a few moments of fighting, she found she did not have the strength to resist any longer. Her head lolled onto the shoulder of one of her captors, her head and heart pounding. She had no idea what would happen next, and each possibility frightened her more than the last. A thought, a memory, a _word_ flashed in her mind. All she had to do was offer to join them, and she was sure they would stop. She didn't want them to stop.

Agnès felt herself carried into a cool room.

"Here we are," she heard the older man say cheerfully. "The men's barracks. Your home away from home for now."

The men's? Agnès didn't understand, and thought to ask, but the moment her feet hit the floor, she was then bent over the edge of a bed, her face pressed into the cool fabric of bed sheets. Startled, and trying to steady herself, her face burned with embarrassment as she spread her legs, raising her hips into the air, kicking feebly.

"Oh?" The man was laughing, now. "What a view!"

"Make yourself useful," the younger man said. He had been mostly quiet up until now, and Agnès's heart leapt at the sound of his voice. "Go get … you know what."

As the other man trotted away, the younger man stroked his hand through Agnès's hair, pulling it away from her face, where it had been clinging in a sticky mess. Agnès took comfort in that, allowing her breath to come in quiet gasps as she lay waiting. The man took a few moments to readjust her blindfold, tightening it behind her eyes so there was no chance it would come off, but his fingers were calming as they ran across her scalp.

When his partner returned, they swiftly tied her to the bunk she was bent over. The metal poles on each side that held up the top bunk made sturdy anchors as she was immobilized between them, her breasts hanging freely underneath her. The new bondage made her arms burn with pain.

"You won't be needing this anymore," the younger man was saying now, and before she could wonder what he meant, he had grabbed hold of the back of her Vestal garb and ripped it clean in two, exposing skin all the way to where her arms were bound! Her heart tore along with it, and she screamed loudly. Moments later, the back of her panties was also grasped, and she screamed again.

"Please no!"

"Please no _what_ , Wind Vestal?" the older man asked her, only after he had ripped them off her. "Here," he said to his companion. Agnès struggled for breath, for voice, but it all fled when she felt the first strike against her bare bottom, courtesy of what felt like a very large paddle. Warmth blossomed from the impact.

Her face burned.

"Ah!"

"How about a strike for every good man she killed?"

"Don't be stupid, that's too much. How about… 25?"

"There weren't 25 good men…" the first man retorted. "We'll just wing it."

She braced herself for another strike, but could not stop from crying out when it came. She tried to keep count as she was spanked again, and again, but after the sixth one, her head was spinning far too much. She could only lay there and accept each strike as further punishment for her sins, the heat building up on her rear each time.

The men had taken to running their hands across the smooth flesh of her bottom between each paddling, and she wasn't sure if that made the strikes easier to bear or worse. Warmth was also beginning to build between her legs, in her center, in her stomach, and her cheeks burned with humiliation. Surely this wasn't happening!

She could not prevent the lewd noise that slipped out of her lips when she was struck again.

The spankings stopped.

"Look at her," the younger man said. "She's dripping wet." Fingers, rough and calloused from years of hard work, brushed unexpectedly against her sex, and Agnès squeaked, slamming her thighs closed.

"Looks like she isn't as pure as she seems; I told you it's always the quiet ones. Here, give me that rod."

Agnès attempted to kick again as the men prised her legs apart, and her ankles were strapped to a rod that forced them apart. Like this, she could not protect herself from wandering hands, or fingers. She pressed her cheek against the bed sheet, forcing herself not to push her hips against their touches, even when they came tantalizingly close to her exposed, pulsating, _traitorous_  sex.

She _wasn't_ as pure as she seemed.

When one man's fingers stroked across her sex again, Agnès sighed. The touch relieved some of the ache she was feeling, sending pleasure throughout her entire core. Pleasure she immediately chastised herself for feeling. The man's fingers were sure but explorative, rubbing at the edges of her gaping lower lips, chasing beads of sweat and fluid that dripped down her mound and thighs. The other man's hands were caressing her rear, soothing some of the burn from the paddlings out of them, squeezing the supple flesh between his fingers.

She wanted it to stop. Her body ached for more. She refused to give into them. She needed relief. Agnès sighed again as she felt fingers rub against her throbbing clitoris, the little bud erect and begging for attention. Try as she might, she could not stop the way her hips thrusted up.

"Give her what she wants," the older man said.

Please no… she thought, eyes aching with tears. She wouldn't be able to resist if they continued.

She felt fingers push roughly into her entrance again, scissoring and twisting as she heard the rustle of clothing behind her; a belt being unbuckled, boots being kicked off, pants falling to the floor. She trembled with trepidation, attempting to rock her hips away from fingers that were stretching her out, but she could no longer deny the base urges of her body. Though the man continued to defile her with his fingers for some time, she found they weren't enough. She wept as she enjoyed it.

Then, those fingers slipped out, and she felt hands grasp her hips, bare thighs press into the back of her own. The head of a cock brushed against her.

"No!" she cried, trying to pull away. But she could not close her legs, could not kick, could not defend herself. "No, no, no!"

"Here it comes," the younger man said, and Agnès cried as he filled her with one, deep thrust until he could go no further. She had expected pain, but there was none; further proof of her impurity. Her back arched as she tried to pull away, but both men held her still, down against the bed. She attempted to clench around the cock filling her, to give him some resistance, but found that she could not. Instead, her sex loosened with each thrust of the man's hips, and Agnès lost herself to the rhythm, cries slipping out of her wet, sore lips in time with the thrusts, intermingling with the sounds of skin-on-skin.

She found the gag in her mouth being untied, and Agnès took a deep shuddering breath the moment that she could. "Please stop," she begged. "Stop!"

"You don't want us to stop," she heard the older man counter. "Admit it, Vestal… little toy. You love it."

She refused to admit he was right. Refused to admit that her hips were rocking back into the man thrusting behind her, inside her. Refused to admit that she wanted to open her legs more, wanted to grind her needy clit into something hard and unforgiving. Refused to admit that this wasn't enough, that she wanted to be fucked harder. "Never."

And yet, when she felt something warm and hard and alive press against her cheek and mouth, she turned her face to take it into her mouth, filling herself even more with cock. If she obeyed them, perhaps it would end sooner.

The man's hands grasped a fistful of her hair, guiding her up and down his length. As bound as she was, Agnès could do little but allow him to move her as he wished. All she was able to do was tighten her lips around his member, sucking him desperately. He didn't seem to care when her teeth scraped along his length, his hands merely tightening their grip in her hair, pulling painfully.

She couldn't keep up with the cock in her mouth and the one in her sex. Agnès moaned around the mouthful that she had, eyes rolling back as the sensations threatened to overtake her. Her body was perversely enjoying the humiliation.

Behind her, the younger man continued, his thrusts getting harder, rougher, more erratic. She went limp against him, legs spreader wider so his thrusts reached her core. Just a little longer...

"I'm--"

To her dismay, the man pulled out, and left her open, aching and empty. She could hear the sounds of him, of him, of him pleasuring himself over her body, and the warm splashes of come across her back.

Her scream of indignation and horror made the other man laugh breathily, and he pulled her so tightly to him that she choked on his cock, stifling all noises she might make.

"Can't come in the Vestal," he said. "Unless you _want_ to carry the child of - of your enemy."

He too, seemed to be at his limit. Agnès felt tears of humiliation spring up in the corner of her eyes as he pulled his cock out of her mouth. Moments later, warm, sticky fluid dripped across her nose and cheeks and lips. She licked it, thick and salty.

She felt empty. Used. Still aching for release.

Head lowering to the bed again, she cried noiselessly.

"What do we do with her now?" one man was saying. She wasn't sure which, could barely hear them through the rush of blood in her ears.

"Let's ask," the other man suggested. The older one, she supposed, who now lifted her head up by her hair. "Vestal, are you ready to join Eternia now?"

Her mouth, unblocked of both cotton and cock, was free to bite out a reply, spitting come and saliva from swollen lips. "Never." This wasn't enough.

"You heard her," the man said to his partner. "We've got a long night ahead of us." She nearly choked as a ball of fabric was pushed back into her mouth, the cloth damp with her tears and spit, and now, with her captor's come. He tied it swiftly in place.

The only respite she had, it seemed, was that the men seemed to need some time to recover. Agnès found herself being untied from her bonds, her arms freed after so long, though they quickly resecured her wrists. Her arms ached with true pain as they were lowered to her sides, and she let out of a soft noise of discontent. One of the men ran his hands along what she felt were welts.

"We need to be careful with her."

"Of course," the older man replied. "We'll use cloth instead." Agnès didn't have the strength to protest the treatment as they lifted her arms above her head, tied her wrists to the top bunk.  Like this, her whole body would be free to be used, it seemed. "Let's get this off her, yes?"

The remains of her Vestal garb was torn off her body, falling to her feet in tatters of cloth and broken prayer. She closed her eyes, accepting her fate; after all, she could no longer call herself a Vestal, not when her body still ached for sexual release, not when she was hoping, deep down, that her captors would continue.

"Look at this body. This is no vestal's body."

Hands, gentle yet firm, caressed her breasts. Her cheeks warmed at the comment, but he seemed to appreciate the fullness of her breasts all the same, thumbs rubbing over her nipples. They hardened at the touch, eliciting a laugh from the man that was massaging them. She heard the bunk creak as the other man ducked down, but was not expecting the wet warmth of his mouth as he tongued a nipple into his mouth. Soon enough, her other nipple was sucked into the heat of the second man's mouth.

Heat blossomed again in her core, and she cried out as both of her captors suckled at her sensitive breasts. She couldn't make sense of their motions, not when one man was gentle, his tongue caressing the hardened flesh as he sucked, his hand kneading into the curve of her breast in rhythm with his mouth. The other man was a rougher sort, his sucks hard and his teeth even harder as he tugged her nipple this way and that, his nails tracing patterns that she tried to follow.

One of them, she couldn't tell which, traced a hand down her stomach, which tightened with anticipation. It continued down past the damp, dark curls between her legs, until fingers slipped inside of her opening, already open and sloppy from use earlier. The man's thumb roughly encircled her clit.

Agnès found herself rotating her hips into his touch, her whole body undulating as she rocked back and forth both into their mouths and into the fingers that continued to explore her. She could not stop the desires that threatened to overflow from her, carnal need that overwhelmed her higher thought processes.

When she moaned, the men responded in kind, their mouths muffled by the flesh of her breasts and the three of them rocked together, for what seemed like hours. Heat was coiling deep in her sex, building up painfully with every flick of the man's thumb against her greedy clit. She wanted this.

They all stopped when the door opened. Light that she could not see flooded in before the door closed and locked.

"Well, look at this! You look like you're getting along just fine."

It was the woman from before. Agnès's breath caught in her throat.

Hands slid along her warm, abused rear. Hands that were smaller, yet just as rough as the men's hands. They traced along the sides of her rear, down her the sides of her thighs and back up the wet flesh of her inner thighs. Those hands scraped little circles up the Vestal's back before she undid the gag.

"Do you want to join us?" the woman asked, her voice sweet. Her hands were gentle as she pulled the brunette's hair up into a ponytail and secured it in place with the used gag.

Agnès shook her head. "Never."

"Then, I guess we'll need to keep an eye on you a little longer," the woman mused. "Don't let me stop you."

The men returned to their sucking, nipping, kissing along the skin of her flesh. Agnès whimpered when one man pulled away with a noise, trailing his teeth and lips to the underside of her breast. His mouth was replaced with a hand that twisted and pulled at her sore nipples.

The man continued his way down her body; suckling at parts here and there. A kiss to one of her ribs, a bite to the skin beside her navel. Agnès was sure he would leave marks. His hand slipped out of her sex, instead moving to grip her thighs as he situated himself in front of her, tongue leaving searing trails of heat against the v of her hips.

Sweat broke out on her forehead when he kissed the fluff of her damp pubic hair, his tongue dipping into the very edge of her lust-heated sex.

Then he skipped it entirely, moving onto her slick thighs. She whimpered in disappointment.

"You like it, don't you?" she heard the woman's voice in her ear. A soft body with soft breasts pressed against her own; the woman had undressed and now her hands were roaming across Agnès's trembling form. "You're not a Vestal anymore. You're our little plaything now."

"No…" Agnès tried to argue, her voice sounding weak to her own ears. Her hips continued to rotate in needy, desperate circles, betraying her words.  "I don't…"

"You should see yourself. We all know you want it."

"Please," the Vestal replied.

"Please what?"

The man was now sucking at the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, just inches from her sex. He bit at the damp skin, lavished with his tongue. Above him, the other man was tugging at her nipples with both teeth and fingers, twisting and twirling the hardened nubs.

"You know how to make this stop."

The assault continued. Agnès cried as she felt the woman's fingers trace a path of pure heated hell down her lower stomach. They found her sex and caressed her gaping lips, nails running around the edges. Always just barely touching, but never giving her the relief she wanted. The man kneeling before her was moving back up, sucking the question into her hips. And before her, the younger man stopped his movements, kissing at the curve of one breast as they all waited for her reply.

"No, no. Please no!"

"Agnès."

"I don't want this!"

"Agnès."

"No!"

"Agnès..."

" _Please..._ "

"Do you - "

"Nnnn… please! Fuck me! Fuck me!" the Vestal finally screamed, her throat raw and tight and dry with need. Immediately, the man that had been at her hip covered her sex with his mouth, and Agnès's hips jolted down into that touch, her legs opening up as much as physically possible. His tongue was welcome, needed relief, warm and wet and harsh against a neglected clit that pulsed with desire. He gave her what she wanted, his lips closing around the erect bud and suckling hard. In front of her, the man bit her nipple, and she thrust her chest into his mouth with a cry. "More! Please!"

She was no Vestal. She was the Duchy's plaything.

The woman laughed, and she slapped Agnès's rear before her hands moved down to grasp Agnès's trembling thighs, forcing her somewhat still even as she attempted to ride the face of the man below her. "Knew it."

Agnès felt hot shame flood her cheeks, but that shame was not nearly as hot as the need now coursing throughout her veins. The woman kissed the back of her neck before trailing her tongue down Agnès's heaving back, racing beads of sweat. Blind as she was, Agnès could not know what was happening as the woman massaged her smarting rear, before parting the two halves of it and running her tongue into the crevice.

That was _indecent_ , Agnès wanted to shout, but the moment the woman's tongue came into contact with her rear opening, the protest died in her throat; a moan came out instead. Her eyes rolled back as the tongue prodded and licked and caressed that opening, that sensitive bundle of nerves before slipping in, the flesh parting easily for the intruder. The woman grasped her hips tightly, and the man before her covered those hands with his own, their considerable strength combining to keep Agnès immobile. Still, the wild gyrating of her hips could not be tamed completely and she bucked in rhythm with their tongues, moans spilling lewdly along with drool from her slack lips.

She lost track of time. She lost track of herself. All she knew was that the man kneeling between her legs had now slipped his tongue into her gaping, dripping sex, fucking her with it, though it wasn't anywhere near what she truly wanted. She knew that the woman was continuing to violate her from behind; slender fingers easily slipped into the wet, tender opening, scissoring and widening her further still; the woman's wicked tongue licked away any pain her body may have felt upon intrusion, and the rhythm of her fingers matched the rhythm pulsating through her sex. She knew that the man in front of her was sucking so hard on her nipples that it was truly painful, his hands kneading at both mounds as though to milk her, had she any milk; she cried out when he finally took both nipples into his teeth at one time, pulling at them cruelly. And despite it all, she knew that pleasure was coiling in her lower belly, just behind the clit that was being twisted by two unforgiving fingers. It hurt.

Agnès was going to come. Captured by the enemy and defiled in every way, she was going to come.

Her orgasm was painful, and yet the sweetest thing she'd ever experienced. Agnès screamed as it came over her, her whole body convulsing as her pleasure finally uncoiled in her, sending sparks and fire and shame through her veins.

Sobbing, tears dripping down her face, she came again as her captors slowed but did not stop, the painful assault on her body only barely easing. As she heaved for breath, they caressed her gently, helping to hold her up on weak legs that could barely support her own weight. "Please," she begged, over and over, a mantra spilling over her lips. "Please. Please." She knew, of course, that if she accepted the offer to join Eternia, the pain would end. She didn't want it to end.

A kiss to her wet cheek.

"Alright... Do you want to join us now? We'll stop."

Did she? Was this not enough? Agnès's sex was still pulsating, still aching. Their hands were deceptively gentle across her flushed skin as they waited for her answer.

"Unacceptable," she said, swallowing. She would endure as long as she could.

"... you heard her, boys."

She was untied from the bunk that imprisoned her wrists, the hands of her captors' rubbing life back into them. Though her hands were now free, she found she could give no resistance whatsoever as they spanked her again; instead she thrust her bottom in the direction of the strikes. At the same time, she allowed them to lift her aching arms over her head as that thick, rough rope from earlier was knotted around her breasts, forcing them apart, and forcing them into misshapen bulbs that felt unnatural to her questing hands. The rope spiraled all the way to her sore, hard nipples, making an efficient lead as she was, once secured, tugged forward by her breasts, the paddle continuing to strike her behind and back of her thighs.

She was led in what felt like circles for some time, the breast lead tugged sharply here and there, making her cry out. When they stopped, her legs trembled, and her thighs pressed together, rubbing slightly. Another rustle around her, and she could not stop the yell that escaped her as she was lifted nearly to the tips of her toes by the rope binding her breasts. Another jerk and she was off the ground entirely, legs flailing as her breasts now supported all of her weight. Despite the pain it brought, her moan was one of excitement as hands slapped roughly across her upper thighs and her sex, already messy, but getting wetter.

Agnes screamed, fighting to get down. Two hands grasped her thighs and forced them apart, relieving some of the pain as they held her aloft. She couldn't be thankful, not when her burning sex was covered with someone's mouth. Sobs wracked her frame as teeth bit into her sex even as she begged them to stop. When those teeth moved away, the paddle took their place, the studded wood slamming up against her abused clit over and over.

Try as she might, as violently as she squirmed in the arms of her attackers, she could not get away. She could only accept her fate, and soon enough, she felt herself going limp as the pressure against her clit forced another orgasm out of her. Her resistance crumbled. .

"That's enough," she heard the woman say finally, and Agnes's bound breasts were released from their torture as she was carefully lowered back to the ground, though she doubted her feet would be strong enough to support her ever again. She wasn't sure they needed to. While they no longer held all her weight, her breasts twinged with every breath, the spiral of rope that held them up and apart cutting into her skin with every small motion. She gasped for breath each time they were touched, and found herself whimpering as the Eternians wrapped the ends of the rope around her shoulders, forcing her breasts into a stiff upward position that she could not control.

Still, she would refuse to join them.

Her new masters had unbound her ankles from the rod that forced her exposure to the world so that she could walk, and yet it was of their own accord that her legs spread wide when they shoved her roughly onto the bed, directed her to sit upright on the lap of one of the men, her back to him. His turgid cock brushed against her wet sex, but when she reached down to caress him, they slapped her hand away.

"He's not going in there," the woman said. The brunette could not ask her what she meant, because the next thing she knew, the woman's fingers were in her mouth, over her tongue. The Vestal sucked blindly, moaning around the offending digits, and was only a little disappointed when they were pulled out of her.

"You sure she's ready for this?" one man - she thought the younger, but their voices were all getting hoarse by now, and she wasn't sure - asked the others.

The woman's wet fingers probed at the Vestal's back entrance, the tips easily slipping in, and she opened her legs, lifting her hips to allow for better access. "She looks ready," the woman replied. "Give me the oil."

Oil made her even slicker, made it easier for her entrance to engulf those questing fingers. The brunette rocked down as two fingers went all the way into the knuckle. Two fingers became three that pounded at the tender opening, until she could no longer truly feel them. She was too loose.

"More…" she sighed.

"Say please," the man behind her said. His arms slipped under hers and her cradled those bound breasts mottled with painful bruises, tugging at the ropes that made them stand out.

"Please," she obeyed, and was swiftly rewarded for her obedience.

It was with a loud, obscene moan that she was lowered onto the man's shaft, her eager asshole sliding easily down his length, stretching wider than she could have ever imagined. Unseen hands controlled the motion of her hips, the angle of penetration, and once she settled fully on him, a finger flicked her vulnerable clit. Her head fell back against his chest; she had never known this sensation, but now that she did, she wanted more. It felt _good_.

The two of them moved in tandem, the Vestal rocking her hips down at the same time that he thrust up, and his hands moved from her breasts to her thighs to help keep her steady. The pain that movements brought her was nothing compared to the pleasing feelings coming from her ass, her core.

A mouth covered her own and she kissed whomever it was, mouth opening languidly to a questing tongue. Someone's hand rubbed at a clit that was agonizingly oversensitive, but she paid it no mind. She no longer cared which parts of her were used, if there were even any untainted parts left. She couldn't care. Despite knowing it was wrong, she wanted them to continue with the disgusting debauchery. She would never, ever ask to join them.

Her legs were forced wider still, almost unnaturally now, and when she whined in protest, the man pounding her ass stopped. That hurt almost as much, and she shook her head. "More… Fuck me more, please."

"Lay down," she heard someone suggest. She didn't know who. Didn't think about it. She let them direct her onto her back, nestled against the chest of the man behind her. Whatever they wanted. She was their plaything, after all. She existed for play.

"Agnès."

Her name, so foreign sounding now, pierced through the red haze of lust in her mind. "Yes... my lady." It sound right on her tongue. These people owned her now.

"You want another cock? We have another one right here for you." The unseen woman's voice was coy, almost teasing, before trailing off. "Or, are you ready to - "

"Cock, please," Agnès requested as politely as possible, swallowing as best she could with a dry mouth and dry throat. Her legs were hitched up, knees folded almost to her chest as she felt the other man clamber on top of her and her current sex partner, positioning himself. The head of his cock rubbed against her clit as he guided himself to her neglected sex, which was already pulsing with excitement.

The lascivious moan that came out of her mouth made her flush, even now. He slid in slowly, carefully, and she couldn't help the shaking of her hips as she was filled beyond her wildest dreams. It was tight! Tight, and for a moment she worried that he wouldn't fit, not when there was already a cock filling her rear, competing for space.

But fit he did, and Agnès found herself trembling as the man on top of her adjusted to her body, entirely still. An orgasm, unbidden and unexpected, rippled through her, her breasts bouncing in the musky air as she cried out. The rope had some slack now, but that only made them bounce _more_. Hurt more.

"Playthings love sex, don't they?" Fingers tip-toed across her heaving tummy.

"Yes," she breathed, reaching up with her unrestricted hands to run them across the broad, muscled shoulders of the man on top of her, who rocked his hips against hers in response. He pushed her legs wider for better access, his grip of her thighs tight and almost bruising, and her toes curled in pleasure as he pushed in even deeper. "Fuck me, please."

She blindly cradled the face of the man before her, fingers clenching in his short hair as he slipped out, then slammed back in, jolting her. The man underneath her did the same, both of them pushing in deep once more before starting, truly starting.

Tears sprang to her covered eyes as she allowed herself to be fucked by her two captors, their cocks teasing her body and her mind. They moved at their own, separate rhythm. The man in her rear seemed the rougher sort, his thrusts hurried and deep and almost violent; something hard at the base of his cock allowed her to stretch more and more over him, pushing her past her previous limits with each stroke. She was certain she'd be loose for the rest of her life after this.

The man on top of her was more deliberate in his movements. They were slower, deeper, but no less passionate. He would thrust deeply inside of her for a few moments, then stay his hips for a few moments, pressing up against her clit, allowing the man under her to fuck her roughly before starting his slow rhythm again. Always slow, always deep.

"Oh yes!" she moaned, head falling back as bliss built up in her, horribly slow but deliciously sharp. One of her hands drifted down before her legs to rub circles across her clit. She was only vaguely aware when her mouth fell open, saliva dripping down her chin while she keened in pleasure, tonelessly, wordlessly. All she could feel was the cocks in her, too tight, too full, too much, and all she could hear was the sound of her own heart pumping and the slap of flesh on flesh on flesh.

But suddenly, her face was suddenly covered by the warm, wet sex of the other woman, and her cry cut off. She jerked, flailing for a moment before settling, unhappily abandoning her clit to grasp the woman's thighs and jerk her sex down for better reach. Release would have to wait, though she could feel the woman reach down and yank at the rope binding the Vestal's sore nipples in exchange. The pulse of pain had a corresponding, perverted pulse of pleasure in her core.

The vulgar sounds of the four bodies moving together were muffled by the woman's strong, muscular thighs. The musk of the woman's desire was heady and thick, and she found herself lost in the scent of it, burying her nose in wet folds. She sucked at lower lips that were swollen with want, carefully making her way down to a clit that was fully engorged with need. Running her tongue along it, she could get a feel for its texture, it's shape, and it's admittedly impressive size. She heard the woman above her cry out with joy, and smiling, she decided that the clit was hers for the taking. Why else would they have allowed her to taste it? Humming to herself, she wrapped her lips fully around the pearl. It settled warmly against her tongue and trembled against her teeth as she fucked it with her mouth. Fitting the curve of her tongue perfectly, she found her mouth so completely filled that it felt almost like a third cock was plowing her.

There. All holes filled. Agnès was now completely their plaything. Behind the blindfold, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, tears dripping out, as her senses were overcome with bliss borne from violation. Her mind shut off, bit by bit, until all that existed was pure, pained pleasure. Plaything. A vessel to be used by others. It made her smile in delight.

With a wordless scream, the woman she was fucking came first, grinding her hips down against Agnès's face as she rode through her orgasm, and her hands yanked at the Vestal's bruised breasts. Her sex was so encompassing that Agnès couldn't breathe. She gasped in pain, gasped for air, but found none, not when her mouth and nose were both pressed against wet, sex-swollen flesh.

The lack of air sent a rush to her brain and her own orgasm followed quickly. Her hips jerked, sex and ass convulsing around the cocks that were continuing to plow her. Her nails drew blood as they dug into the flesh of the other woman's thighs. She tried to come down from her orgasm, but could not, waves of intense pleasure continuing to wrack her abused frame as the men's cocks hit sensitive nerves deep in her core. The men showed no signs of stopping, though thankfully, fresh air came back to her when the woman on top of her moved forward, sitting on her stomach instead, smearing more filth across her. Agnès pressed her hands to her face and gasped for breath, sobbing as she spasmed uncontrollably, unable to stop the orgasms fueled by humiliation and pain as she came again, and again, and again, each one sweeter than the last. Her throat was rendered raw.

She was still crying days, hours, minutes later as the man on top of her came with a muffled moan; she could hear wet smacks, the clack of teeth, ragged breaths intermingling. She could not move, not when she was pinned by two cocks as he pressed himself deep, deep in her. As tight as it all was, she could feel his cock twitching as he spent himself. Her sex twitched in response, but there was no anticipated release, only an ache inside. She sighed.

It was a few minutes more until the man underneath her came. His hurried, wild movements from before had slowed to nearly a crawl due to the weight on top of him, and she helped in those final moments as best she could, rocking down to fully engulf his cock as he groaned, his strong hands grasping her thighs tightly to keep her steady. The stretching of his pounding motions burned, but was something nice all the same and she clenched her muscles around him to milk his cock of all it was worth. But again, there was no come, no fluid filling the hollowness that grew inside.

She cried out brokenly.

Then it was over.

* * *

 Agnès found herself breathing deeply as the adrenaline and contentment drained out of her, taking with them the edge of her pain. In the warmth of tangled, sweaty bodies, her mind tried to claw out of the pit it had fallen into.  With every breath and movement, she was aware of the two cocks buried in her body and squeezed sore muscles tightly around them both. Her breasts burst with pain when she breathed in deep.

Beyond that, she could now feel the cool air that pricked at her skin, the electric sensation as their limbs rubbed together, the sound of their breathing, almost in time with the rocking of the ship below them. Familiar sensations. Welcome sensations.

Edea moved first; being on top she had to, after all, though she stumbled when her pained legs hit the floor. Tiz gripped her arm to help keep her steady. She leaned against the bed and watched as he slipped out of Agnès carefully, one hand tight around the base of his softening cock to keep the condom from spilling.

Once disposed of that, his fingers made quick work of the rope that bound her breasts; the knots were his handiwork, and he knew how to make them fall apart quickly, allowing the Vestal's much misused breasts regain some natural feeling and shape. The man underneath her cradled them as they pooled across her chest, his fingers sliding across angry welts and painful imprints, then helped to cut the last of the rope from her torso with a nearby pocket knife.

Agnes breathed easily for the first time in hours, her hands running down her open, trembling thighs.

Leaning forward, Tiz reached to caress Agnès's cheek, brush some of her hair out of her face. Her cheeks were flushed with desire and shame both, damp with tears and fluids and sweat, and she whimpered at his touch when he tucked hair behind her ear, fresh tears rolling down to her neck. 

"Come on," Edea told him, and she tugged him off the bed. "He's got her. I… think she needs a few minutes. Let's go clean up." Worrying his lip, Tiz nodded and leaned down to kiss her, mouths molding together gently before they hurried out of the room.

Agnès's breath came in shuddering sobs, fingers skittering down her exhausted form. She felt ruined. The air was no longer thick with the smell of musk and sex, but she could still feel the hands on her. All around her. Pain. She couldn't stop shaking. Someone covered her hands with their own.

"It's alright. You're alright. Just breathe, Agnès," she heard the man underneath - inside her - her say, and one strong arm wrapped tightly around her waist. The sound of her name steadied her, and she took a deep breath as he rolled them over until she was on her stomach in their soft sex bed, Ringabel slipping out her in the process. He shushed her with quiet, gentle noses, hands pulling damp hair off her neck and the blindfold away from her eyes. She blinked as the dim light of the lanterns filled her vision. She was not in Eternia. She was safe.

She could feel Ringabel throwing the soiled cloth aside and sitting up on her legs to massage at the tense muscles in her back and shoulders, his deft fingers easing out some of the stiffness. She rolled her neck, sniffling as he continued to soothe her with loving touches and soft assurances, his voice barely a whisper, laboriously breaking through the fog of her mind. She was Agnès, Wind Vestal. They were on the Grandship, moored in the southeast seas for the night, and he wasn't going to hurt her anymore. He wouldn't let anyone hurt her anymore. She would be alright. She sighed.

Soon, the phantom touches over her skin were only a memory. Her skin felt like her own again, mostly. Ringabel protected her from the cold with his body, but when she tried to look at him, she could not meet his eyes. He hugged her and held her, and she listened to the sound of his heart.

"I'll take care of her now," Edea whispered to him when she returned, her skin fresh and damp, healed. She leaned over to give him a kiss, their tongues meeting briefly before she tapped her forehead to his. "You go clean up. Can you bring us some fresh water?"

"Very well," Ringabel replied, and he climbed off the bed, stretching one arm out while the other hand wrapped around the cock ring keeping his dirty, used condom on. "I'll be back shortly."

Agnès buried her face in the damp pillowcase as she felt her girlfriend lay down beside her. Hands that were kind and careful rubbed her back. A far cry from the pain they had gleefully delivered earlier. These were good hands.

"You good?" Edea asked when Agnès's breath was even, slow. She carefully wrapped an arm around Agnès's shoulder and leaned against her. Agnès closed her eyes and focused on the warming feel of the body next to her, a body belonging to a woman that loved her and always cared for her. Not a captor. Calm washed over her. She was safe.

"Yes," she replied after a few moments, rolling over to her side, sheepishly pushing her hair away from her face. Her voice was very hoarse; she suspected it would be so for days.  "I think so. That was… intense. But I am good, now."

Edea smiled at her, and the kindness and love in the other girl's eyes made her smile in return. She wiggled closer until their arms wrapped easily around one another, mouths meeting in a natural, lazy kiss. The movement caused Agnès' body to twinge in pain and soreness, but she had no need to fear; she would not be hurt any longer.

Tiz had returned, still wet but at least clean, and now he draped a blanket over the two girls before climbing over onto Agnès's other side. He kissed Agnès's bare shoulder as the girls parted. "Hey, Agnès. Did we hurt you?" His hand caressed her hip in slow, sensual circles.

Her heart leapt at the sound of his voice and she rolled over to her back to kiss his cheek. "I am… a little sore," she confessed. Now that she was no longer bound, she felt … fine. There was just a deep soreness that had settled into her very bones, made her wrecked entrances ache. "Though I'm not hurt! I remembered our safe word." she hurried to clarify, noticing the way his eyebrows furrowed in concern. She remembered it, but hadn't used it. She hadn't needed to.

"I was a little worried we'd gone overboard," Edea admitted. "I mean, I know you wanted to try anal, but we hadn't planned on it being now."

Agnès flushed, then found herself giggling with embarrassment. "That may have been my favorite part." Her lovers smiled at her. "Besides, you offered me many opportunities to back out. I … I simply didn't want to." It was hard, to reveal that part of her, but she also knew that she was not the only one whose darker fantasies had been indulged that night. Fantasies that she'd barely admitted to. She'd _wanted_ to be forced, be defiled, be more and less than the Vestal she was, and for them to stop treating her like glass when they made love. It gave her new appreciation for their usual sessions.

They fell into silence, Tiz and Edea cuddling her carefully between them for a few moments, hands stroking her shoulders and hips, until she made a noise of displeasure."I'm dirty - wet," she squeaked. Her cheeks flushed. "I don't think I can walk." Her bottom pulsed at the mere thought.

"I brought towels," Tiz replied. She nodded and leaned back, allowing her two lovers to cleanse the filth from her skin, biting her lip when the cloth traveled over sore spots.

She was still too sensitive, too on edge for much caressing, and shied away from Tiz's touch when he ran a cool, damp towel down her inner leg. After a pause, Tiz kissed her cheek and offered it to her instead. "Thank you," she said, turning her head aside as she cleaned herself with shaking hands. Her thighs were soaked with her own release; evidence of her enjoyment of her what had just transpired. Her cheeks flushed at the reminder, flushing further still when she had to meekly request his help cleaning her backside, still slick with juices and oil.

Ringabel was next and last to return, bringing with him glasses and a pitcher of ice water.

He passed full glasses around to everyone, giving Agnès the biggest one and watching her closely. As she gulped it down, she found it helped to quench the prickling heat that still simmered under her skin, brought her mind closer to the ground. Closer to the people who loved her. She took in a deep, calming breath, and the soreness felt less intense, flushing out of her. Whoosh. When she opened her eyes, they met Ringabel's. She was sure lust no longer clouded her gaze. Sure enough, her boyfriend smiled before leaning over to kiss the top of her head. She was safe.

" _She's_ still asleep," he informed them, and he stretched out on Edea's other side.

"Thank goodness." Agnès breathed easier.

They could not allow the fifth member of their party to know about their nighttime activities, after all.

With that said and done, Agnès found herself cradled between Tiz and Edea's bodies. When she draped her arm around Edea, she felt Ringabel take her hand. Their legs all tangled together easily, and it was a warm, comforting feeling, in stark contrast to the heat of the torturous sex she had endured just minutes earlier. It already felt like a lifetime ago.

Hands ran through her hair, gentle and detangling, untying the damp cloth that had held it up. Those same hands kneaded out tension in muscles that had been bound and overworked. Healing salve was rubbed over welts and bruises, ensuring that they would be healed and hidden by morning. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be touched in this way, though she squeezed her thighs tightly together again when someone's hands came too close to her still too-sensitive sex.

"I left some marks between your legs," Ringabel said sheepishly. "We need to-"

"Leave them. No one but you three will see them." Her cheeks flushed with colour that could not be seen in the darkness of the room. "I do not mind if it's just you three." They cared deeply for each other, after all.

She was safe.

"Are you sure you're not hurt?" Tiz asked her again, later. After a nap, and a little more care in the arms of her lovers, she had felt that the soreness in her rear had abated enough that she could now sit up. Still, she was perched gingerly on her second boyfriend's lap while he carefully massaged salve into her breasts and nipples. He'd felt her flinch.

The two of them were wrapped in a warm blanket as he worked, and though the touches had been painful at first, each pass of his fingers lessened the pain along with the red welts. It was something she would allow only him to do, for now. Neither Edea nor Ringabel knew how to be gentle enough. Tiz's lips were little pools of warmth across her neck, and her eyes were half-lidded, watching through her eyelashes as Ringabel and Edea made love on the other bed; it creaked under the force of Ringabel's uncontrolled thrusts. Edea was hard to sate, after all, and Ringabel always volunteered for extra chances to please her. They could fully let loose with one another.

"I'm sure," she assured Tiz, snuggling back against him. His hands ran down her arms until he could intertwine his fingers with hers. She was safe.

And yet, as her eyes slipped shut, as Tiz lulled her to sleep with words of love, as she fell into the warm net of safety of his arms, her mind could not rest. She replayed the events of the evening over and over in her mind. Their play had been steeped in deep, dark, _forbidden_  fantasy, fantasies that she hoped would continued to be indulged. All she had to do was say the word.


End file.
